


Affinity

by aiIenzo, allonsymckenzie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU: Soulmate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiIenzo/pseuds/aiIenzo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymckenzie/pseuds/allonsymckenzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gavin Free turns 18, a name appears on his hand: the name of his soulmate, Michael Jones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's POV written by allonsymckenzie, and Michael's POV written by aiIenzo

It was finally here. Gavin’s eighteenth birthday. The day everyone in the known world looked forward to: the day you learn who your soulmate is. And he couldn’t be more excited or nervous at the same time.

No one really understood the rhyme or reason behind the phenomenon. The old legends told by generations say that names just randomly appeared on people’s bodies, as if  
they had gotten a tattoo they didn’t remember. One by one, everyone figured out that these names were the same of those they had fallen for. Most find each other, get married, and live their lives happily. There, of course, were others that weren’t so lucky. Sometimes they found their soulmate had a different name, others found theirs had long passed before they finally found them. No one could explain it, not scientists, not scholars. It was just an accepted truth to society, and Gavin waited so long for his name to appear wherever it will. 

Gavin walked into work at the supermarket he worked part time at, eyes bloodshot and hair disheveled. He spent the entire night awake, checking himself over and over again for the name, only to find his body a blank slate every time.

"Gav, looking a bit rough this morning. Have a bit of fun for your birthday?" His coworker joked.

"I stayed up all night looking for the name." He mumbled. "Never bloody showed. Of course I would be the broken one and not get one."

All his coworker did was laugh, pointing at Gavin’s left hand.

"You don’t see it? It’s right there, you mong."

Surprised, Gavin looked to his lefthand, where in the small space between his thumb and index finger, on the back of his hand, a script not unlike very fine handwriting read “Michael Vincent Jones”.

Gavin’s first instinct: reaching for the disinfectant wipes behind the counter, believing his brother had snuck in at the small window oftime he had any sleep and wrote it in with a sharpie. There was no way, he thought, when he stayed up nearly all the night before, that the name just randomly showed up. 

He scrubbed and scrubbed at the skin of his hand, the name not budging in the slightest. Then itfinally sank in: it was real. Whoever Michael Vincent Jones was, wherever he was, that was the man he was destined to be with.

And of course, now that it had sunken in, Gavin became sensitized to the name Michael, constantly craning his head around when he heard it. He’d approach random men, hearing the name Michael mentioned, asking their whole name, and would always be disappointed. His mother assured him that it’ll likely take time, that no one found their soulmate right after the name appeared. But Gavin was never one for patience, and kept abruptly interrupting strangers to find their names, never giving up hope, never losing faith in finding Michael Vincent Jones.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning showers were possibly the best part of Michael’s day. They definitely didn’t help improve his mood at the thought of going to work at eight in the morning, but as long as he had the combined powers of hot water and a shitty cup of coffee, he could usually greet the day with slightly less ferocity than usual.

He stepped out of the shower slowly, the cold air tightening against his skin as he wrapped a towel around himself and shook the water from his hair. He took a few steps forward and rubbed the steam off the mirror, giving himself a glance over as he rubbed his eyes furiously. His vision immediately caught the small black marks on his skin peeking over his towel, and he pulled the cloth a bit lower, running his fingers across the name imprinted and wound carefully across his hip.

It had been almost two years ago when he woke to find the name plastered across his side, a tattoo he had never asked for, and hadn’t given two shits about. Girls usually made a huge fuss over it, often throwing “soul mate” reveal parties on their 18th birthdays, then scouring the web with their friends long into the morning for any possible information on their future love.

Michael had merely glanced at his and relished in the sweet realization that at least the name was in a place that would be easy to ignore, and pulled on his pants. It hadn’t meant much to him.

"Heeey, still pondering the mysteries of your soul mate, huh?"

Michael’s eyes shot up as he moved his fingers away from the mark on his side. The bathroom door had opened to reveal a grinning man, dark hair disheveled a mischievous look on his face. Michael rolled his eyes

"Ray, every heard of privacy? You’re lucky the towel was on."

Michael’s roommate perched himself on top of the counter and waved his comment aside. “One day I won’t be so lucky, hopefully. So no luck finding them, then?”

"I’m not fucking looking," Michael muttered, turning away from the mirror and walking to his bedroom outside. "You ask me every fucking day. And besides, shouldn’t you be trying to find your own long lost love?"

Ray followed him out, but Michael made a swivel motion with his finger and Ray sighed, turning his back to Michael as the redhead pulled his work clothes out of the dresser.

"I am trying, it’s not exactly as easy as yours, you know," Ray sighed. "How many Erica’s do you know? I see one at least one every day. And Ramirez? That’s probably the third most common last name, possibly in the world. Possibly in our  _town_. And she doesn’t even have a middle name, can you even fathom how irritating that is? I typed Erica Ramirez into a Facebook search and there’s like thousands of them, man.”

Michael pulled on his shirt and starting hunting around for socks, trying to find two clean ones in the mess that littered his bedroom.

"How about you shut the fuck up about it for two seconds? If you were getting laid by some chick right now you wouldn’t give a shit about Erica Anything. It’s all a bunch of crap. You don’t fall in love with people because their name is inked into your fucking skin."

Ray snickered, kicking Michael’s shoes over to him.

"And what do you know about falling in love, Michael?"

"Shut up, asswipe," Michael muttered, slipping on his almost-clean enough socks and cramming his feet into his sneakers. "What do you want for dinner, anyway?"

"Chicken alfredo. No. Yes. With garlic bread."

"Well I don’t have fucking alfredo sauce, so too bad."

"Just pick some up after work."

Michael grabbed his keys off the counter and groaned irritably.

"You know I don’t like that store by work, Ray. It’s too stuffy. People there are too nice."

"You could use nice," Ray chastised, throwing Michael his jacket and Game Stop name tag. "I work a short shift today, so I’ll be home early tonight. We can have that Black Ops rematch it you’re down."

"Yeah, yeah," Micheal muttered, "You gonna leave me love notes in my wallet, too? I’ll be home around six, since I have to get your fucking sauce."

Michael stepped out into the sunshine, blinking irritably. He heard Ray call out a final goodbye before shutting the door behind him, feeling the breeze hit his face and effectively waking him up better than that skipped coffee would have done. He opened his car and threw his jacket inside before flopping casually into the drivers seat, trying to shake the last bits of grogginess from his mind.

He pinned his name tag under the Game Stop label and paused, fingering the hem of his shirt lightly. With slight hesitation, he pulled it up slightly to reveal those small, intricate letters that adored the skin against his hip, the name of the person he would be spending his life with. Or so tradition told.

He ran his fingers across the letters, tracing them, studying them, feeling only a slight curiosity break through his annoyance at what he usually referred to as the blemish on his skin.

"Gavin David Free," he muttered, starting the car and pulling out of his driveway. "Here’s to you staying a mystery."


	3. Chapter 3

Unfortunately, fate had been working against Gavin, discouraging him in his pursuit. 

Time after time, he’d talk to every Michael he came across, none of them being the one he sought after. Each one he would get his hopes up, let his guard down, and every single time, he’d come home that evening, broken down and discouraged that much more.

 

A few months passed, and he had yet to find Michael. He’d taken up a collection of various fingerless gloves, very easy to go about his day as normally as he could while hiding the name he now felt mocked him. Band aids worked at first, but as he kept covering them with the sticky rubber material, it began to itch and irritate him. And so he chose this intrusively obvious option, choosing the brightest of colors, along with a few black pairs, just for balance, or if he needed to dress up a bit.

 

“Do you always wear those gloves?” The new girl, Barbara, asked as Gavin took to his register next to her at the start of his shift. She had only been working there about a month, but was on nearly every single shift Gavin had worked, and so a friendly working relationship naturally developed.

 

Gavin straightened the vest they were required to wear, fixing the nametag right above his heart. “Yeah, why?”

 

“It looks so ridiculous.” She laughed. “They make you look like a douche, and from what little I know of you, that’s the complete opposite.”

 

“Well I happen to like how they look, so your opinion is a load of bollocks.” He retorted, a smirk growing on his face. They dug at each other like this a lot, sending a slight flirting vibe between them. But Gavin’s mind was completely fixed on the mysterious Michael Jones, and though he genuinely liked Barbara, he didn’t feel up to sharing such an intimate detail as the name on his hand, so he just covered it and continued his digs at her.

 

“Whatever. Look like a douche, I don’t really care.” she laughed, turning to the customer waiting behind her.

 

Gavin’s day dragged on slowly, faceless people passing by as he just scanned their groceries, made small talk that he couldn’t recall five minutes later, and laughed and joked with Barbara. 

 

Six o’clock rolled around, and Gavin knew he had just one more hour. Most of the time, he had very few customers come through, so he expected to count his drawer early and be ready for seven so he could leave, letting another day go by as the rest have. He scratched at the cloth covering his hands, sighing and taking them off. The one draw back to constantly wearing these were the itchy fabric they were made of. 

 

“What’s that?” Gavin froze as Barbara’s voice carried over his shoulder.

 

“What’s what?” he laughed it off nervously, pulling the gloves back on as quick as he could.

 

“Is that your soulmate tattoo?” Barbara smirked, giving Gavin a knowing glance. He shoved her away, moving back to his register.

 

“It’s nothing...” he sighed, still not meeting her glance.

 

“Who’s the lucky girl...or guy...or whatever?”

 

Gavin sighed. “His name’s Michael Vincent Jones.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, sitting on the counter, fully engulfed in Gavin’s story. “Have you met him yet?”

 

“Of course not.” 

 

“How long has it been?” 

 

“Three bloody months.” He pulled the left glove back off, letting Barbara take his hand in hers, examining the fine black script.

 

“He’ll show up.” she said reassuringly, patting his hand. “Trust your gut. What’s it telling you?”

 

Gavin sighed. “I know he’s out there, but it’s driving me nuts that I haven’t even had a single bit of progress.”

 

“Gavin, you know this shit takes time. Do you really think it works like the movies, where you fucking turn around and there he is, and everything’s sunshine and rainbows?” she laughed. “It takes time.”

 

“Hey, dickheads, can you ring my shit up so I can go home?”


	4. Chapter 4

Michael’s day was less than blissful. He spent the first half categorizing the used games bin after a swarm of kids ransacked it, and spent the second half yelling at his coworkers for recommending nothing beyond Call of Duty. Then, he had spent his final twenty minutes on shift wondering bitterly how to overthrow the manager and steal his position out from under him without incurring the suspicions of the local police force.

When the clock finally hit 5:30 he made a mad dash to his car to avoid the typical coworker who would undoubtedly ask Michael to cover their shift tomorrow. With a final relieved sigh he shifted into gear, intent on making his stop to the store as swift as possible so he could get home and hopefully take some frustration out on his Xbox. And Ray, if he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Michael’s punches.

Thankfully the store was mostly empty, and he wandered through the isles grabbing not only sauce, but a case of beer and four huge packs of gummy bears, none of which he planned to share. His irritation was still in full swing though when he found the only two cashiers chatting each other up. Flirting, most likely, with the way the pretty blonde haired girl was touching the guy’s hand.

As he approached, he saw the dude slip that same hand back into a glove, which only proved to agitate Michael more, because the guy looked like a douche for it. He heard the girl softly laughing, “It takes time,” before he dumped all his items on the belt, intent on making as much noise as possible.

"Hey, dickheads, can you ring my shit up so I can go home?"

The blonde girl, Barbara, as her nametag read, shot him a dirty look and hopped down from the register.

"Rude," she mumbled, before turning her back on him.

"Not my fault you’re not doing your job," Michael shot back, but she was already gone back to her own register, and Michael was left alone with the idiot in gloves.

"Did you find everything okay?"

Michael was flipping through his wallet to find his card and avoided making eye contact as the cashier rang up his purchases.

"Yeah. Would you believe that I actually came in here  _looking_  for gummy bears and beer though?”

"As long as you’re not dumping this pasta sauce on the gummy bears, I’m afraid I can’t judge."

Michael looked up and smiled, despite himself, and caught a grin on the cashiers face that sent a small flicker of heat through him. The guy was definitely attractive, Michael would give him that, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for attractive strangers. He looked away and ignored the slight tug in his stomach.

"28.18," the guy told him, and Michael fumbled with his card, refusing to make any other eye contact and feeling embarrassed and frustrated with himself for the slight blush that he was sure had crept onto his cheeks. He swiped his card and signed quickly, eager to be out of the building.

The charge went through and Michael heard the rip of the receipt out of the printer as the cashier went to hand it to him.

"Have a nice night, Mich…Michael…"

Michael looked up at the stutter to find the cashier frozen, Michael’s receipt hanging limply from his outstretched hand as he kept his eyes trained on a patch directly above Michael’s heart. His nametag.

"You alright, buddy?" Michael asked cautiously, and without a moments hesitation, his eyes narrowed in on the name attached to the cashier’s work shirt.

Gavin.

They both peeled their eyes away from their uniforms and looked at each other, a quick flash of shock and disbelief. Without warning Gavin’s shaking hands pulled the receipt back to hastily read the printed name above Michael’s scrawled signature, eyes wide.

Gavin looked back up at Michael, and suddenly, Michael knew what he had been searching for, what he had been trying to read, and Michael lunged out and tore the paper out of his hands. His mind was buzzing, but his thoughts were blank as he quickly grabbed his bags and made towards the door, intent on leaving the store and never returning.

He heard a call of what might have been his name, might have been the intercom, might have been the lady a few isles down, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to focus in and find out. His only plan of action was to drive home as quickly as he could and try to sort it out from there.

His hands were shaking as he got into his car, and he rubbed his eyes in a mad attempt to get himself to focus. It had just been a first name, after all. It hadn’t meant—

But the way his heart was pounding was hard to ignore, and his drive home was filled with nothing but softly spoken words from a cute cashier mixed with a constant surge of sweet denial. By the time he walked through his front door, his whole body was shaking and he immediately fell unceremoniously across the couch.

"Whoa. What happened to you?" Ray asked lightly, pausing his game to glance over at Michael.

Michael swallowed, his blank gaze focused on the ceiling above him.

"There was a cashier at the store."

"Good, good," Ray answered, moving to fiddle with the bags Michael brought home, finding a beer a cracking it open. "It’s nice to see a store going above and beyond for customer service."

Michael had a hand draped across his chest and the other hanging limply at his side. He felt stupid, he felt nervous, and above all, he felt like he had just done something he wouldn’t be able to easily undo. He now had a memory he wouldn’t be able to erase.

"His name was Gavin, Ray."

"Ah," Ray replied, lowering his beer to grin at Michael. "So it begins. Ready to be broken out of your shell?"

Michael scoffed and rolled over. “I’m ready to never see his face again, more like.”

But his hand was rubbing against his hip, a weird fiery sting that accompanied the smiling face currently burning into his thoughts. He swallowed his desire to know more and settled into a night of beers and Xbox, letting his mind drift only rarely to Gavin the cashier, whose name, Michael was certain, was only a tattoo on his hip, and nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

Gavin stood fixed in his spot, watching the stranger scoop up his bags and hastily bolt through the door. He tried calling back to him, trying to get his attention, but he kept walking, making no attempt to turn back around. He wanted to stop Michael, but his legs remained glued to the ground, preventing him from doing so. Even though he had met Michael after Michael, even a few named Michael Jones, this one felt different. Why did it feel different?  
  
  
His hand ached, the tattoo feeling as if it were on fire. He yanked the glove off, cradling his hand in an effort to ease the ache.  
  
  
“What was that about?” Barbara laughed, having watched the whole exchange from a distance.  
  
  
“His name...” Gavin muttered, rubbing the name with his finger. “His name was Michael Jones.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” she asked, looking at his hand and the pained expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
“The tattoo, it’s burning.” he inhaled sharply. “It’s like it’s bloody on fire or something.”  
  
  
She pulled his hand sharply away from him, holding her cold coke bottle to the script. “This ever happen before?”  
  
  
“No, first time.” Gavin steadied his breath and took hold of the bottle, the cold dulling the stinging pain.  
  
  
“Aren’t you lucky then.” she smirked.  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
“You found him, Gavvy.” she sat up on the counter, pulling up her sleeve, revealing a name: Silas Alexander Young. “This thing here? Burned like fucking hellfire when I met Alex. We got talking and he told me his did the same thing. Of course, no one told me about this, so I googled it. Apparently, it’s a sign of a really deep connection. Like, folklore says  that its soulmates who have been together in a previous life. The burn is like a signal, like your soul is saying ‘Where the fuck have you been?’”  
  
  
Gavin laughed. “That sounds like a load of bollocks, personally. But, it’s something. Probably wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, yeah?”  
  
  
“Definitely wouldn’t hurt.” They sat in silence a moment, Gavin handing her back the soda and wiping off the condensation on his hand. “So...did you get a number?”  
  
  
“Didn’t get a chance, he bolted out the bloody door before I could say a damn thing.” He sighed, gazing out ahead of him to the back of the store. “Got the name tag though. He works at a Gamestop.”  
  
  
“Well that does a load of good.” she said, a note of sarcasm laced in the words. “There’s like twenty within this whole damn area.”  
  
  
“Well, I’ve got tomorrow off, so I’ve got time on my hands.” Gavin looked at Barbara, a newfound determination fixed upon his smirk. “I’m gonna find Michael Vincent Jones!”  
  
  
“Again.” Barbara laughed, pushing the Brit aside and going back to her station to help the waiting customer, who seemed like they waited for the second coming of Jesus before they were checked out.  
  
  
“You are the worst checkout girl ever, Barbara.” Gavin laughed while she silently flipped him the bird, grinning at her customer and making small talk.

* * *

  
  
After taking far too long deciding what to wear ( “Black shirt? No, purple...no, black...grey? Bloody hell, this is annoying.”) and even more time fixing his mess of honey blonde hair to right at the edge of perfectly disheveled, he made his journey out to scour all the Gamestop stores he could find, looking for Michael.  
  
  
The first one was a bust, a redheaded girl, much smaller than him, working, more than happy to find his name was Gavin, but saddened when the surname didn’t match.  
  
  
“Ah, well. You’re by far not the first Gavin I’ve met.” She laughed, embarrassed.  
  
  
“Oh, no, it’s fine, Meg.” he laughed. “You would not believe how many Michaels I’ve met in the past three months.”  
  
  
Even though he didn’t find Michael there, he made a new friend in Meg, and reassured her that her Gavin would come, and exchanged numbers, insisting she text him sometime.  
  
  
The next few were all the same muddled mess of guys who seemed to act half their age, arguing over the newest Call of Duty and having PS4 versus Xbox One debates, all things that Gavin could care less to hear. None of them had anyone working there named Michael.  
  
  
At the seventh store, Gavin was already exhausted. He was a good fifteen miles away from home at this point and his patience was wearing thin. And when he walked through the door and saw nothing more than a dark headed man, black rimmed glasses fixed upon his face, his frustration boiled over.  
  
  
“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be kidding me.” he sighed, standing at the door. He debated on whether to ask for Michael or not even bother when the man noticed him.  
  
  
“Can I help you with anything?”  
  
  
“Yeah.” Gavin said wryly. “You can help me find someone.”  
  
  
“Hm...is that on PS3 or 360?” the guy joked, Gavin failing to see the humor in it. “It’s a joke, buddy. Laugh a little bit.”  
  
  
“Sorry, it’s just been a long day.” Gavin walked to the counter, looking at the guy’s nametag. “Ray, is it?”  
  
  
“The one and only. So, who’re you looking for?”  
  
  
“Someone that works at one of these bloody stores named Michael Jones.” Gavin leaned against the counter, looking at the random flyers scattered about. “Lemme guess, ‘We don’t have anyone here with that name.’ I’ve heard it a good six times already.”  
  
  
“Not here, man, sorry.” Ray looked at the blonde a moment, a lightbulb suddenly going off in his head. “You’re Gavin, aren’t you?”  
  
  
“...yeah?” Gavin looked up at Ray, weary. “Don’t bloody tell me you’ve got my name on you too?”  
  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself, buddy.” he laughed. “No, but my roommate does. Michael Jones.”  
  



	6. Chapter 6

"Honey, I’m home!"

Ray ushered Gavin inside and shut the door behind him, noticing that the boy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just an expression," he assured. "Still can’t get him to bang me, despite my best efforts."

Michael had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist as he shook the water from his hair. The very tips of the word ‘Gavin’ was peeking above his towel and he stared at it grudgingly before opening his bedroom door.

"Did you bring home dinner? Cause I don’t want to—"

He stopped dead when he found a familiar face smiling hesitantly next to Ray, who was grinning mischievously.

"Hey buddy, I have a guest."

"Ray, you piece of shit."

But before Michael could determine his next string of curses, the cashier - Gavin, he reminded himself bitterly - gave Michael’s body a once over and his eyes lit up as they raked across Michael’s hip.

"Oh, is that your tattoo?"

And suddenly Gavin was bounding forward, fingers trying to nudge Michael’s towel down so he could read the rest of the name. Michael pushed him away easily, grabbing his only modesty cover desperately in one hand as he fended the boy off with the other.

"Get away from me, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

After a moment Gavin was effectively thrown backwards as Michael glared him down, his grip on his towel vice-like.

"Jesus, you’re worse than Ray about personal space."

"I just wanted to see if that’s my name," Gavin mumbled, looking a bit ashamed of himself. "I saw Michael V Jones on the reciept at the store and you just bloody booked it out of there, so I went looking around to see where you worked and found Ray and he told me his roommate Michael had Gavin tattooed on him so I just—"

"Stop," Ray interrupted him, reaching over to pat Gavin on the back. "Take a breath once in a while, it's not a sin."

“ _You_  breathing is a sin,” Michael shot back. “What the fuck are you thinking, bringing him back here?”

"What was I…?" Ray allowed Michael to bask in his befuddled expression for a moment before turning to Gavin, who was still standing there, looking a bit foolish. "Gavin, tell him your full name."

Gavin looked hesitantly at Michael, and the redhead tried to portray as much contempt and disinterest on his face that he could muster.

"Gavin David Free," Gavin finally muttered and looked up at Michael hopefully, but was met with nothing but that same indifferent stare. Several moments of stirring silence passed, before Michael finally broke the tense atmosphere.

"So, was that suppose to explain to me why he’s here, or…?"

Ray felt Gavin deflate beside him, and glared at Michael.

"Fine. Be an ass. He’s my guest though, and he’s welcome here as long as I’m paying half the rent."

And with that, Ray began pushing Gavin into the general direction of the couch, the British boy looking flustered and trying to hide his disappointment by allowing himself to be physically moved around the apartment. His softly spoken, “Maybe I should just go, I don’t want to be a bother,” was completely ignored by Ray.

Michael just shook his head and turned back towards him room, barely muting out Ray’s cry of “Plus we’re ordering pizza, and you can’t have  _any_!”

He slammed the door and sat down on his bed, trying to tune out the muttering of the two men outside as the sound of the Xbox roaring to life reached his ears. He sighed and threw himself back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes in irritation.

It wasn’t as though he minded new friends. He didn’t, really. But he knew Ray, and the only intention he could have of bringing Gavin here wasn’t likely to fall under platonic terms. Michael didn’t want a boyfriend. He didn’t _need_ a boyfriend. But the moment he did he was assured that it would have been under _his_ discretion, not from a cute boy with a soul-mate fetish and and a bothersome roommate.

It was a load of crap. A pile of shit. The divorce rate was still high, unhappiness still ran rampant, and above everything else, Michael wouldn’t condone giving someone who believed in all this nonsense anything more than a wave goodbye. If Gavin was expecting anything relating to a _chance_ at Michael’s affections, he’d be sitting on that couch for a very long time.

                                                     

 

—-

 

He eventually left his room, because there’s only so much happiness you can hear happening without you before you start to realize your need for socialization outweighs your dislike towards a situation.

Gavin’s eyes had darted from the game to Michael frantically when he emerged, and Michael was almost amused at how Gavin’s unease obviously outweighed his own. He sat next to Ray on the opposite couch and said nothing, watching them play Halo with feigned interest. Sad to say that, regardless of a few careless mistakes, Michael was frustrated to note that Gavin wasn’t that bad of a player. The idea of having anything in common with the bizarre individual only proved to irritate him, and his sulking intensified.

Small talk resonated between Gavin and Ray, who were getting along famously. Michael sent a few glances and nudges at Ray, making sure his disapproval was noted, but Ray blew him off and eventually just draped his legs over Michael to avoid further bumps to his knees. Gavin was watching them closely, and finally broke his silence as his character plummeted off the ledge.

"Do you have a Gears of War tattoo?"

Michael looked up, taken aback by the sudden question. Gavin was smiling at him, and Michael found himself too surprised at being held on the receiving end of such a blissfully happy gaze to reply with an insult.

"Yeah, I uh… got it after the second game came out."

"Cool. I love those games."

Michael had to bite his lip to prevent himself from continuing the conversation about something he was so obviously interested in, but yet again, he had to remind himself that the thought of sharing an interest with Gavin would be nothing but counterproductive. With a thoughtful chew of his lip he tore his eyes away from Gavin’s and looked back to the screen, deciding to steer the talk back to where he was comfortable.

"I bet you cried like a little bitch when Dom died."

"Shut the fuck up, Michael, you cried too," Ray snapped, before Gavin had a chance to answer.

Before Michael could hit him, the doorbell rang, and Ray jumped up with a glorious shout of “Pizza!” and left Michael and Gavin alone, Michael watching the screen carefully as Gavin hopped around the map. A small silence rang between them, awkward and stiff, before Gavin again couldn’t help himself.

"Everyone saw it coming, you know. Did you really cry?"

Michael was furious to hear the small hint of humor in Gavin’s voice, and wasted no time in picking up Ray’s controller and tossing it at him, the taller boy only barely avoiding it by a swift duck of his head.

"Shut the fuck up! …I like you better when you don’t speak, then I can’t hear your stupid fucking accent."

"Make fun of it all you want, this ‘stupid accent’ has gotten me laid more times than I can count."

Michael glanced over, but Gavin’s eyes were locked back onto the game, and begrudgingly Michael picked up Ray’s controller to save him from being kicked from the game. Something about the idea of Gavin seducing someone with that voice — the same voice Michael was trying very hard ignore — made the bottom of his stomach swoop.

"Not surprising," Michael muttered, intentionally trying to find Gavin on the map and ruthlessly murder him. "I’m betting you can’t count that high anyway."

"You’re so mean, Michael."

Michael stopped dead though, and faced Gavin with an incredulous look. “What did you say? Say my name again.”

Gavin looked back at him curiously, looking legitimate confused and surprised. “What? Did I say it wrong? It’s Michael, right?”

"Yeah, but you…it’s weird when you say it. It sounds like ‘Mi-coo,’ or something."

"Oh, I’m sorry," and for once, Gavin sounded like he really did feel bad.

"It’s okay," Michael replied instantly, unable to hesitate long enough to let common sense take over. "I kind of like it. You make it sound cooler."

Gavin smiled at him, a genuine, perfect smile, and Michael cursed himself yet again as he felt that flutter in his stomach. For a prick, he was definitely an attractive one. Gavin opened his mouth, but whatever he had intended to say was drowned out by Ray, singing loudly as he dumped the pizza boxes on the kitchen table behind them.

_"Oh, say my name, say my name! You actin’ kind of shady, ain’t calling me baby, why the sudden—"_

He ducked in time to avoid Michael’s left shoe, but the right one hit him squarely in the chest.

"Ouch,  _Micoo_ ,” he grinned, rubbing his chest, “Try and avoid the critical spots, yeah?”

Michael tore himself up from the couch to grab some pizza, a worthwhile excuse to avoid meeting Gavin’s eyes and to hide the redness on his cheeks.

 

 

\---

 

Three hours later, and Michael still refused to let his guard drop again. Conversation with Gavin was either carried out through carefully constructed insults or viscous sarcasm, though Gavin showed no signs of being bothered by either. He casually laughed off Michael’s persistent attempts to remove him from his list of acquaintances, and his jokes and quips on Gavin’s behalf were met with nothing but a warm smile.

Michael was panicking, and for two very different reasons. Initially, because of the faint wisps of attraction he felt for Gavin, which had only startled him into regressing his behavior into that of a sociopath. Then, came his second terror: His defense mechanisms were failing. In a usual circumstance, any lingering sense of desire or want immediately put Michael into a critical state, where he would push away the offender with any vile wordplay his brain and mouth could work out. This usually resulted in the swoon-er retreating, and leaving Michael at peace.

Gavin, however, continued to state at him, eyes bright and smile honest, and Michael was at a complete loss. The games continued on late into the night, and when Gavin finally decided to call it quits and head home, Michael sat purposefully on the couch, refusing to see the boy out. It was only when Ray had returned after shutting the door behind him did Michael finally collapse into the couch, throwing his arm over his eyes and feeling instant relief pass over him.

"Please tell me he’s not coming back," he mumbled, and he heard Ray’s soft laughter beside him.

"Why? Because you hate him, or because you’re having a hard time trying to?"

Michael only groaned.

"Whatever," Ray laughed, ruffling his hair. "Be as mean as you’d like, you can’t admit that accent isn’t hot as fuck."

"I know it is, Ray, _fuck!_ " Michael cursed angrily, rolling over away from Ray, feeling his frustration and embarrassment battling for dominance. "Go away. Go to bed. I hate you. You’re a piece of shit."

"Goodnight princess," Ray laughed, turning towards his room. "You can’t hide forever though, you know. This one’s not going away anytime soon."

Michael waited a few minutes before rolling off the couch and slouching towards his own room, heart beating fast, alight with new memories as he wondered bitterly just how true Ray’s words might be.


	7. Chapter 7

“He sounds like a douche.”  
  
  
“He’s not, I know he’s not. He’s just...” Gavin sighed, the phone dangling from his hand as he ran his fingers through his hair.  He paced the length of his bedroom, eyeing the clothes in his closet, trying to assemble the best out of the mess.For the past few weeks, he’d been spending more and more of his free time at Ray and Michael’s, and somehow, by the grace of God, Ray had helped him to get Michael to go out, the three of them. “I don’t know. He seems scared.”  
  
  
“I don’t know, Gav. He sounds like a dick.” Barbara replied on the other end. “It sounds like he’s not as into this as you are.”  
  
  
“He’s made that pretty clear.” He laughed. “But, i don’t know, I think there’s something there. I don’t think it’s worth giving up.”  
  
  
“I’m not saying give up. I’m just saying, watch yourself. You’ve been burned on this so many times before, Gavvy, and I hate seeing the aftermath.”  
  
  
“I know, I know, but this one really is different.”  
  
  
She sighed. “Just...be careful, sweetie.”  
  
  
“Too bad you can’t come out with us.”  
  
  
“I would, believe me, but Alex had this whole thing planned for a few weeks now.”  
  
  
He laughed. “Go, have fun. Don’t worry about me. I’ll call you when I can.”  
  
  
“Good luck, Gavin.” He tossed the phone back to his bed, pulling and tugging away at random pieces of clothing, knowing that he was far too worked up about his appearance for no more casual than what the evening called for.

* * *

  
  
“So, why in the fuck are we going to see _Catching Fire_?” Michael sighed in the passenger seat.  
  
  
“Because _Thor: The Dark World_ is sold out this weekend.” Ray retorted. “Besides, there’s gonna be people killing people. Perfect date movie, guys.”  
  
  
“I’ve never seen the first one.” Gavin chimed in from the back seat, masking Michael’s mutter of “it’s not a fucking date.”  
  
  
“All you need to know Gavin is this: Future America, kids kill kids because the government is stupid, and Jennifer Lawrence is awesome.” he laughed. “Fuck, sometimes I wish her name was on me rather than Erica Ramirez.”  
  
  
“Shut up, Ray.” Michael tossed his head back onto the headrest, closing his eyes in frustration.  
  
  
“Michael, you know...” Gavin sighed. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”  
  
  
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just...I don’t know what you’re expecting to come out of this.” Michael looked back at the Brit. “I’m not looking for anyone, you know?”  
  
  
Any hurt that Michael could expect from that statement never showed on Gavin’s face, and Gavin smiled because he wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “I know. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”  
  
  
“Gay.” Ray chimed in, pulling into the parking lot. “So fucking gay.”  


* * *

  
Gavin was horrible with sitting still. He always had been. He needed to move in some sort of manner: a foot tapping, a hand tapping, wringing his hands to his chest, running fingers through hair. Just that slight bit of motion provided a small comfort to him, not only when he was sitting still in the most normal of situations, but definitely in a time like this, when the guy he was undoubtedly sure was his soulmate was sat right next to him.  
  
  
“Jesus, Gavin. Can you hold fucking still?” Michael whispered, not looking away from the screen as Gavin’s foot bounced up and down rapidly, his leg jerking at a blazing speed.  
  
  
“I can’t help it. I’ve gotta move.” Gavin admitted. “Especially when I’m nervous.”  
  
  
Michael sighed, pulling his hand to cover his peripheral and block the bouncing Brit out of his sight, and Gavin sunk lower into his seat, trying his best to calm his nerves.  
  
  
“Dudes need anything?” Ray asked, getting up from his seat, both replying “no thanks.” And at that, Gavin’s motions went into overdrive. Ray’s presence seemed to have a very slight calming effect to him, and with him gone, he couldn’t keep himself calm to save his life.  
  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin.” Michael sighed. “Hold still, you’re driving me nuts.”  
  
  
“Do you think I’m doing this on purpose?” Gavin replied, slightly venomous in tone. “Because I’m not.” he heard Michael sigh, not caring to look at the boy’s face. Gavin leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes in frustration. Of course it would be him that would ruin this....whatever it was. Michael made it clear in the car that this was not a date, and that just tied his guts in even more knots.  
  
  
He wished for this embarrassing night to end, and dreaded going to eat afterward like the plan was calling for when Michael’s hand pressed against his knee. He looked up, a bit shocked, to Michael watching the movie, his hand softly against his leg. Gavin sat up in his seat, keeping his eyes on the boy, and Michael looked at him, smirking just a bit.  
  
  
“There. Think you can calm down now?”  
  
  
“Uh, yeah...” Gavin laughed, just as Ray arrived with more goods, smirking at the sight of Michael’s hand on him.  


* * *

  
The conversation around the booth at the restaurant was easy and light, no pressure from either, and Ray only helped along in the slightest way, just adding in his humor and wit in small doses.  
  
  
When Michael excused himself, Ray looked to the boy sitting next to him, relaxed and happy.  
  
  
“You two are finally hitting it off, huh?”  
  
  
“Maaaaybe.” Gavin laughed, finishing his beer.  
  
  
“That’s like your fifth one, isn’t it?”  
  
  
“....maaaybe.”  
  
  
“Better slow down, you idiot.” Ray jabbed him in the side, causing a fresh howl of laughter to pour from him when Michael came back. “Looks like your boyfriend’s back.”  
  
  
“Ray-” Michael sighed when Gavin threw his arms up and called at the top of his lungs “Michael, my lovely little boy!” The face Michael made at the name quickly made Gavin recoil.  
  
  
“Sorry, Michael.” He sighed, laughing just a bit. “I’m a little tipsy.”  
  
  
Michael laughed, still a bit taken aback. “Fucking lightweight. I think it’s time we call it a night.”


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow, in the course of driving home, Ray had turned Michael’s “call it a night” into “let’s go back to the apartment and drink until we knock out.” Which would explain why a buzzed, disgruntled Michael was currently helping a thoroughly plastered Gavin up the stairs of their place as Ray fiddled with the door handle.

"On your time, then," Michael muttered to Ray, pushing Gavin’s head away from where it had tried to rest on his shoulder.

Ray only smiled.

By the time Michael managed to get Gavin through the door, the Brit became immediately self reliant and stumbled over to the collection of games next to the Xbox.

"Oh, Ray! Ray, can we play Call of Duty? Ray,  _please_?”

"There’s no splitscreen, Gavin," Ray smiled, tossing his keys onto the counter and kicking off his shoes. Michael followed him in, the air feeling a bit cooler from where Gavin had vanished from his side.

"That’s okay," Gavin chirped, fishing it out carefully from the pile and tripping over himself a bit. "We can take turns. Will you play, Michael?"

And maybe it was the three beers already fogging up his brain, but Michael actually smiled, watching the boy on the carpet look at him with a cheerful anticipation.

"Yeah, alright. But only because I’m better than you," he answered, opening the fridge and grabbing another beer.

Gavin, despite his intoxication, managed to set the game up correctly, immediately handing the controller to Ray with the excuse of, “I have to watch a match and get into it. You know. Set my mind onto play,” which seemed to make absolute sense to Michael, who smacked him on the back of his head in laughter.

They settled down easily, as Michael had gotten used to Gavin’s presence in his home, despite how much he was used to equally resenting it. Hell, he’d even brought Gavin another beer, which he tried to trick his mind into believing was only because he was such a good host. That’s all, really.

But as he sat down next to Gavin, perfectly aligning himself to be an appropriate distance away while not seeming too withdrawn, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the boy next to him. Gavin’s line of sight was completely glued to the TV as Ray choose his setup and began the match, but each time Michael shifted next to him Gavin’s fingers would twitch, an urge to touch and feel being bound by rejection.

But alcohol was a funny thing, and Michael noted that the nerves Gavin had in the theater were gone, replaced by smiles that were blatant and pliable, moving and reacting in time to how often Michael would look back, meeting Gavin’s eyes and saying nothing. He tried to focus on Ray’s game as easily as Gavin was, cheering and talking shit, but six minutes later when Gavin sat down next to him after fishing out two more beers for them, the distance between them on the couch suddenly vanished, and Michael could feel was the soft heat pressed against him.

Then Gavin was up, taking the controller from Ray and sitting up a little straighter. He was shot dead twice and blown up once, without a single kill. Ray was laughing at him, asking if he’d like to go back to playing Peggle, and Michael couldn’t help but smile at the frustration across Gavin’s face.

"I’m usually better when I’m drunk," he cursed angrily, turning a corner and immediately getting blasted with a SPAS. "Goddamnit! I’m just getting worse!"

"You’re using the wrong gun type," Michael said, taking pity on him. "You’re using Ray’s set-up, and you don’t play like him."

"Yeah, I’m actually good," Ray laughed, and Michael shot him a look.

"Look, change your class. You don’t really spray and pray, so try the M16. Maybe the SCAR, if it’s unlocked. And use flash grenades, they’ll help you out more than the EMP’s will."

Surprisingly, Gavin listened to him dutifully and made the changes before respawning. He was shot down once, without even raising his gun, and groaned, immediately looking towards Michael for guidance.   
"It’s fine," Michael reassured him, smiling. "You just need to learn the map. Learn where they’re going to be coming from. When you start this time, go left, behind the barrels."

And when Gavin did so, he continued, watching as Gavin’s fingers tapped gently against the buttons, his glassy eyes focused so hard on the screen in front of him.

"Now just wait, don’t go yet. There’s a guy camping in there, he killed you earlier. He’s likely still there, or he came back if he was killed. Throw your flash in there, then rush in."

Again, Gavin carried out Michael’s instructions flawlessly, if not a bit too enthusiastically, and when he found the enemy crouched into a corner, waiting for the flash to clear, he barely hesitated before knifing him and a grin immediately spread onto his face.

"Michael I did it!" he shouted. "I’ve always been rubbish at this, but that was _brilliant_!”

And without warning, he reached over and enveloped Michael into a bear hug, curling his arms around Michael’s shoulders and pressing his head against Michael’s chest. Michael, surprised, hesitated before placing an arm around Gavin’s waist, returning the hug, albeit awkwardly, trying to avoid Ray’s grin from the other couch.

"Great, now if you’re done gaying it up, Gavin, do you think you can try and fix the damage you’ve done to my K/D ratio?"

The night progressed, with Gavin getting progressively better as Michael and Ray tried to redeem Ray’s leaderboard values during their turns. Gavin and Michael were still downing beers, getting increasingly louder and more physical with each empty bottle, but Ray’s turn had come again, and Gavin collapsed against Michael after he sat back down, resting his head against Michael’s chest.

"This is so much fun," Gavin sighed, breath hitting Michael’s shirt as his hand draped over Michael’s stomach. And suddenly, everything around them seemed to get quiet. Ray was still tapping furiously on his controller, biting his lips and concentrating, but the sounds seemed dimmer. More hollow. But Gavin’s weight was amplified, heat and comfort pressing against him in all the right places and before Michael could stop himself, he had a hand in Gavin’s hair, running his fingers through it lightly.

"It is," he said softly, smiling and closing his eyes as the world swam before him in a foggy, melted blur. The lightness in his head felt so good, it felt so nice, especially when it was paired with the way Gavin’s fingers were dancing along his hip, voice soft against his skin.

"Can I see it?" he asked, and Michael had to think for the longest time before he understood.

"My tattoo?" he responded, and Gavin nodded.

Before, Michael would have rejected him, plain and outright. But there was something different tonight, and maybe it was the alcohol swimming in his veins, or maybe it was how Gavin’s body being pressed against his was suddenly so welcomed, but Michael didn’t seem to think the same anymore. It wasn’t really that big of a deal. No. If he didn’t care about it, then why would he hide it, anyway?

"Yeah," he replied softly, and when he felt Gavin smile into his chest, Michael realized he wasn’t just okay with the idea of sharing it with Gavin, he wanted it to happen.

Gavin’s hand pushed Michael’s shirt up carefully, slowly, just an inch or so above the hem of his pants, but it was enough to make Michael’s breath hitch as Gavin’s fingertips trailed across his skin. With only a beat of hesitation, Gavin hooked his fingertips under the frayed hem of Michael’s jeans and pulled it down an inch, revealing the gentle, careful lines of his tattoo.

Michael’s heart sped up when he felt Gavin fingers slinking underneath his pants, and the hot pool of arousal building in his gut was hard to ignore. But Gavin seemed unfazed, turning to trail the tips of his fingers across the black on Michael’s skin, tracing the outline of his own name. He followed the curves gently, watching as Michael’s muscles clenched and relaxed each time he changed direction, stopping only when he reached the very end of his surname.

"You don’t believe in this stuff, do you?" Gavin asked softly, and Michael couldn’t tell if it was curious or saddened. Perhaps a bit of both. And for the first time when he answered, he almost felt guilty about it.

"No. Not really."

Gavin sighed, wrapping his other arm around Michael’s waist and laying fully on top of him, letting his free hand again graze over his own imprinted name. Michael didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, letting his hand make its way through Gavin’s hair again, wishing he could push down the need to pull him closer to his body.

"I wish my name wasn’t on you," Gavin finally said, and it was soft, defeated. "Maybe then you’d give me a chance."

And Michael felt his heart break, fragments chipping off as the hollow sound of Gavin’s voice filled his mind. And in that moment, Michael couldn’t remember ever hearing anything more beautiful, or more sad.   
He didn’t have a response. He couldn’t even form words, couldn’t form thoughts, couldn’t even digest the situation with the intoxication of alcohol filling every pore in his body coupled with the bombshell that maybe, just maybe, Gavin wasn’t only interested in him because of a tattoo.

But Michael wasn’t ready to work through that. All he knew, in this exact moment, was that he wanted nothing more than the heat of the boy on top of him to drown him into sleep, and maybe he’d find a way to deal with it in the morning. But for now, he laid back fully, tangling his legs with Gavin’s and wrapping his arms around the boy he had been so adamant on rejecting, feeling his pulse speed up when Gavin abandoned his hip and pressed in closer to him, body relaxing.

The last thing Michael remembers is pressing his lips to the top of Gavin’s head before he passes out.


	9. Chapter 9

Gavin awoke the next morning, the sun gently resting upon his face, a blanket casually draped half off his body onto the floor. He groaned, reaching for his phone on the nightstand to check the time.  
  
Only when he reached across, his hand met nothing but the empty air. Confused, he opened his eyes just a bit more, and what he saw woke him up straight.   
  
Michael lay on the couch across from the one he himself lay on, mouth slightly agape, breathing slow and steady, glasses on the coffee table between them. He looked around the room, slowly piecing together the events of the prior night. He was still in Michael and Ray's apartment, clearly having passed out after their night of Call of Duty. He sat up, feeling his phone underneath his leg, and pulled the device out, clicking the screen to life. The time read back 6:47 am.  
  
Putting the phone back into the pocket of his jacket, he looked around, unsure of what to do. Did he drive here? he thought a moment, then quickly realized that Ray had picked him up the night before with Michael. With no choice but to wait out the morning for the two to wake up, noting Ray's absence and presuming he was asleep in his own bed, he lay back across the couch, the cushions groaning as he moved.   
  
He curled up onto his side, closing his eyes and trying to fall back to sleep, but his mind nagged him and nagged him about the sleeping boy across the room until he had no choice but to cave. He then lay there, staring at the sleeping Michael, smiling softly to himself.   
  
He couldn't recall when he moved, blaming the alcohol for the small lapse of memory. He watched as Michael stretched in his sleep, his shirt riding up, revealing the first part of his tattoo, the name "Gavin" in fine script peeking out. Gavin, having not bothered to wear his gloves the night before, looked back to his hand, his own tattoo, "Michael Vincent Jones", softly warming the fingertips that he grazed across. Michael groaned out of discomfort, rousing from his sleep, and Gavin quickly snapped his eyes tight, pretending he hadn't yet woken up.   
  
He heard a slight cough, a yawn, and then many squeaks of the furniture before the soft padding of feet across wooden floor before they paused right beside Gavin. The Brit outstretched his hand in front of him, faking stretching in his sleep, hoping he was a better actor than he figured. He heard a slight chuckle, then soft, warm fingers grazed through his hair, and he couldn't help but smile at the feeling.  
  
"Idiot." Michael muttered before walking into the kitchen, the crack of the refridgerator opening following.  
  
"Wake me up when it's lunch time. You're buying."  Gavin sighed, rolling over onto his back, sleep beginning to claim him once more.

* * *

  
"No, I'm serious, Michael! What if your legs didn't know they were legs?" Gavin laughed, shoving another handful of fries into his mouth.  
  
"Where in the fuck did you even come up with that idea?" Michael sighed, taking a bite of his burger. The two sat in the small fast food dining room, laughing and swapping stories after the previous night of bonding.  
  
"It's a thought I've had for a long time. I mean, would they still be, you know, legs, if they didn't know what they were? Like if they didn't know that's what they're supposed to do?"  
  
"That just sounds fucking stupid." Michael teased, a smile forming on the corners of his mouth. Gavin, only a little bit irritated and a lotta bit infatuated, gave him a swift kick under the table, Michael calling out at the force. "You fucking moron!" he laughed, slightly more irritated than before.  
  
"You know, you're cute when you get frustrated." Gavin smirked, casually munching on a fry.  
  
"You'd be cuter if you weren't such an idiot." Michael shot back, throwing a fry in his direction, Gavin nearly Matrix dodging to avoid it.  
  
"Nice try, Michael." he laughed. The two shared the laugh, then sat in silence while they finished their meal.  
  
"I'm a pretty cheap date, really." Gavin joked, walking back to Michael's car.  
  
"You're the only one calling this a date, Gavin." Michael noted.   
  
"I know, I know." he sighed. "I'm just putting the idea in your head. Maybe it'll grow on you."  
  
"Yeah, sure, whatever." Michael unlocked the doors and slid in, shutting out the cool air outside and turning the ignition on. The pair drove in silence for a few minutes before Gavin couldn't bear not asking Michael one more question.  
  
"I have grown on you a bit, yeah?" he asked, his stomach dropping from nerves.  
  
Michael sighed. "As much as I'd hate to admit it, yes, you have."  
  
Gavin smiled brightly, fully satisfied. "Fantastic!" He leaned back in the seat and looked out the window, watching the buidlings and traffic pass by. "I hoped I would."  
  
"You know, it's not like you haven't already grown on me." Michael noted.  
  
"Hmm?" Gavin looked ot the boy, who casually ran his hand down his hip, smirking and side glancing at him. "Oh, you clever boy." Gavin laughed, catching the drift.  
  
"We've grown on each other a bit." Michael smiled, parking the car in front of Gavin's apartment.Gavin's hand, his thumb stroking along the fine script.  
  
Gavin's blood ran firey hot, his nerves jolting to life at the contact. "I-I thought this wasn't-"  
  
"Maybe it was. Maybe they have been. I hate admitting it, but like I said, you've grown on me, Gavin Free." Michael's eyes were fixed upon Gavin's, the Brit's nerves a gigantic ball in his stomach as he pulled his hand away. He couldn't move for the longest time, tempted by Michael's gaze alone, before Michael himself moved to exit the car, snapping Gavin out of his haze.  
  
Gavin walked up to the door of the complex, key in hand, ready to say goodbye for the day. But when he turned around to see Michael, the sun of the winter sky beaming down on the two, his short brown hair slightly gleaming from the particular angle, it made him smile, which made Michael smile. Gavin couldn't help what he did after that having been around the boy on a nearly daily basis for the past few weeks, chipping more and more of his rage filled defenses away, revealing the soft and kind hearted Michael beneath. He took two large strides, hand cupping Michael's jaw and the other running through the fuzz of hair on the back of his head as he mashed his lips against the other's.   
  
Both took a sharp inhale of breath before Michael softened beneath him, allowing Gavin to move, gently sliding his lips across the boy's, hands gently pulling him closer to his body. It was just that moment, the slide of lips and tongue, the sound of rough breathing and gentle motions and moans, that cemented the feeling Gavin had hoped he would feel once he finally met Michael.    
  
The two pulled apart, remaining mere inches away from the other. Gavin laughed gently, kissing his lips quickly once more. "You never had to grow on me, Michael Jones. I'm just glad I'm growing on you." He said before walking into the building, leaving Michael to his thoughts.   
  



	10. Chapter 10

Michael sat on the couch, blood feeling warmer than usual as he ran his fingertips across his lips. He had dropped Gavin off several hours ago, showered even, but he still couldn’t seem to rid the taste of Gavin’s kiss, still lingering on his lips. Ray was seated across him from, still in his uniform from work. He seemed angrier than usual, mashing buttons with a fiery glint in his eyes.

"Goddamnit!" Ray cursed again, and Michael was vaguely aware of someone blowing him up onscreen.

But Michael stayed silent, thoughts drifting in and out like currents, sliding easily against each other as he struggled to fine-tune exactly what it was he was feeling. He touched his lips again.

"You alright, man?"

It took Michael a moment to register he was being spoken to, but he finally shook himself mentally and glanced up at Ray, who was watching him closely.

"What?"

"You’ve been running your fingers across your mouth since I’ve been home, man," Ray commented, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "You look like you’re waiting for herpes to sprout."

Michael let out a soft laugh, finally lowering his fingers. “Gavin kissed me this morning. It still feels weird. Like, back when we were 15 and getting kissed was the coolest shit ever, and you felt like it stayed with you for a fucking week or something.”

Ray stared at him for a moment before returning to his game.

"That’s pretty gay, dude, even for you."

"Your jealousy is showing."

"You’re just mad I wouldn’t kiss you in high schoo—God _damnit_! Again!”

Michael sat up a little straighter, grinning when he saw Ray get plowed with a machine gun.

"Wow, you’re getting eaten alive by that guy!"

Ray cursed again, rubbing his forehead, and Michael smiled. It was a rare feat to get Ray frustrated on a video game, and even more rare for it to be caused by someone being better than him.

"I don’t know what the issue is. He’s been tearing me apart this whole match, and it’s not even from hacking or newbie shit. He’s just…really,  _really_  good.”

"Check his gamertag, see what else he plays," Michael suggested, genuinely interested in a person that could take down Ray so easily. Ray brought up the profile and they quickly scanned through the games. Ray nodded his approval, switching over to read the bio on the profile.

"Not bad, maybe I should add him, we… oh, shit."

"What?"

"It’s a girl."

Michael immediately set his eyes back to the screen, pinpointing the exact spot where “female” was imprinted in the bio. He tried to hide his laughter, but the look on Ray’s face was unbearable.

"You still gonna—"

But before Michael could finish his crude remark, there was a knock on the door. Curious, they glanced at each other, Ray shrugging at Michael’s questioning gaze. He knew neither of them were expecting anyone.

He wondered, hazily, if maybe it was Gavin, and his heart jumped to his throat for reasons he still wasn’t ready to face. He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he got up and approached the front door.

But instead of Gavin’s smiling form standing at the top of the steps, there was a girl with kind eyes and an apprehensive stance. She had a paper clutched in her hand and her hoodie drawn close around her to fight away the slight chill in the air. She was fiddling uncomfortably as Michael stared at her, letting his eyes linger a bit too long on the curves of her face.

"Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a, uh, Michael Jones.  That’s you, isn’t it?"

Michael stood still for a moment, wondering how anyone’s voice could match the beauty in their face, but when Ray called from the living room, asking who it was, he finally snapped back to reality. She was still waiting patiently, finger curling around the paper in her hand.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, that’s me. Can I help you with something?"

"Well I… this is awkward, I’m so sorry. I’ve come a long way to see you and now that I’m here, I’m flubbing it all up," she laughed, and Michael could see that she was visibly shaking.

"Here, why don’t you come inside?" he offered, and the look that crossed her face was both grateful and terrified. Michael stepped back to invite her in. "You look like you’re about to pass out."

"Thank you," she mumbled, the blush rising on her cheeks as she moved past him, barely escaping physical contact. Michael could smell her perfume.

Ray jumped up as she walked in, though Michael could hardly blame him. She was a very beautiful woman, red hair falling over the back of her hoodie. Why she had been looking for him though, Michael could only fathom.

"Hi, I’m Ray," Ray greeted her, nearly on autopilot, holding out his hand for her to shake. She smiled cheerfully, and the room brightened a bit.

"Lindsay," she replied, taking the seat Ray offered her. Her eyes still clung to that nervous, happy demeanor, but as soon as she was seated she seemed to soften, taking a deep breath and calming herself.

"You said you’ve been looking for me?" Michael asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity. She turned to smile at him.

"Yes. I’m sorry to drop by so unannounced, but there was no phone number listed for the residence, or on your facebook."

"My facebook?" Michael asked, surprised, and glanced at Ray. "Why would it be on my facebook?"

"Well how do you think I found you?" Lindsay asked lightly, trying to hide a laugh. "You put all your information on there, made it public even. It wasn’t that hard to find your address," she added, handing him the folded piece of paper in her hands.

He took it, glancing down at a long list of directions and freeway exits that ended in his apartment number. Once he got over the shock of his own stupidity and filing away a reminder to change his facebook settings, he looked over the list a bit more carefully.

"This is… you’ve come a long way. Where do you live?"

"About four hours away," she mumbled, a blush rising on her cheeks as she hastily took her directions out of Michael’s hands. "No biggie, really."

"But why are you looking for Michael?" Ray finally asked, leaning forward to grab his coke from the table.

Lindsay looked on edge again, and for the first time since she appeared, Michael felt apprehensive of her presence. Suddenly, he didn’t like where this was going, and he fought against himself to stop her before she could speak, thank her for coming by, and send her back home.

"Well, I…" she paused, biting her lip. "Maybe it’s easier if I just show you, I guess."

And with that, she pulled up the leg of her pants to reveal very neat script across her ankle. Black, elegant cursive that spelled out a name Michael didn’t want to see.

His own name.

He didn’t recalled pushing himself away from the couch, but suddenly he was standing, taking several steps away from her as his eyes focused in on black curves that traced across her skin. He felt as though the breath had been sucked out of him, and the harder he stared at his own name, the more difficult it became to encourage his blood to keep flowing.

Ray had his head in his hands, mumbling “shit,” underneath his breath, and Lindsay’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two of them, terror evident.

"I’m sorry!" she blurted out, quickly pulling her jeans back down. "I didn’t mean to upset you! Are you, are you with someone? I’m so sorry, it was so out of line."

Ray jumped up to reassure you as Michael tried to compose himself. He heard the words “No, it’s okay,” come out of him, though he still couldn’t bring himself to look her in the yes. Carefully, cautiously, he added, “I’m not with anyone.”

Ray’s face seemed to grow dark at that as he sat down beside her, but he said nothing. She was still worried though, her face frantic as she tried to pinpoint exactly what she had done wrong. Then finally, her face softened, and a brush of sadness swept across her eyes.

"Is… is my name not on you?"

There was a beat of silence, Ray remaining motionless as Michael tried to fathom, in all his years, what he had done to deserve this. But with all his anger, all his irritation over tattoos and soulmates and living your life for another, Michael had reached his limit. He had let this get to far with Gavin, led him on too deeply, and he’d be damned if he was going to do it to another.

"No. No it’s not."

She only stared at him. Confused. Hurt. Her mouth was trying to make words, but the only thing that she was able to form was the soft whisper of, “But…that’s not right.”

"What do you want me to tell you?" Michael said, his voice raising. "It’s not here! It’s never going to be here! So why don’t you go back home, take out that nice guy that’s always trying to win you over, and forget about a stupid fucking tattoo, huh?!"

"Michael!" Ray hissed, but Michael couldn’t care. He was done. The beginnings of tears were in her eyes as she watched him, but her face was stone. Michael didn’t notice.

"Believe me, honey, I wish my name was off your body far more than you wish yours was imprinted on mine. I’m done with all this shit. Now if you don’t mind, you’ve overstayed your welcome."

And with that, he gestured towards the door, eyes glued to the carpet. Ray tried to talk to her, tried to get her number so that they could call her later when things calmed down, but she was shaken, the hurt and anger in her eyes matched only by Michael’s fury, and she was out of the door before Ray could even make himself noticed.

The door slammed shut, and there was an agonizing moment of silence as Ray stared at the door and Michael tried to calm the sound of blood pulsing in his ears.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" Ray finally asked, the quiet broken.

"Don’t Ray," Michael warned, and Ray sighed, his anger calming a bit, but his disappointment still evident.

"Look I know you don’t like this soulmate stuff, but that’s no reason to treat people like shit."

Michael scowled. “The worse I treat them, the less likely they are to come back. Are we done?”

But before Ray could answer, there was a knock on the door and it creaked back open, revealing a face that Michael would have welcomed half an hour ago.

"Hey guys," Gavin smiled, letting himself in. "You left your jacket with me, Michael, I figured you’d want it back in case you had to work later."

He flopped the jacket down on the back of the couch, apparently unaware of the thick tension in the room.

"Did that angry broad in the parking lot happen to belong to you, by the way?" he joked, but when Michael turned on his heel and relocated to the kitchen to find some solitude, Gavin realized he had made a mistake.

"What happened?" he whispered to Ray, casting nervous eyes into the kitchen doorway. Ray ran a his hand up his opposite arm, looking uncomfortable as he bit his lip.

"That girl… her name was Lindsay. She came here looking for Michael. She said… fuck, Gavin, she had Michael’s name on her."

Michael, still fuming in the kitchen, could hear the ringing silence after Ray’s quiet words. He counted the sweet seconds of peace to himself before Gavin’s careful footsteps were through the doorway.

"Michael? Are you alright?"

"No."

And it was bitter and cruel. Finished. And in the back of his mind Michael tried to remind himself that lashing out at the people closest to him had always ended badly, but he couldn’t help the malice in his voice.

"Look, Michael, I know how it must feel—"

"Shut up, Gavin, you don’t know shit!" Michael yelled, finally turning to face the boy. "You think all of this is a game, some way to occupy your time, a fun night out, curiosity and fate and bullshit, well guess what? It’s not! It’s  _never_ fucking been about that, Gavin! That girl is hurt, because of  _me_! She’s driving back home right now, alone, empty-handed from empty promises and it’s  _my_ fucking fault, why? Because I don’t have a stupid fucking tattoo of her name across my arm!”

Gavin flinched, trying to meet Michael’s eyes in a desperate hope to get him to calm down.

"It’s not fair, Gavin! This whole game, this destiny shit! All I ever wanted was to meet someone that didn’t give a shit what was on my body, who wrote it, why it was there, or who it’s  _"supposed"_  to be.”

Michael stopped, turning to face Gavin with a blazing fire in his eyes. He took a step closer, too many steps, and pressed himself up against Gavin, who was noticeably shaken.

"Tell me Gavin, right  _fucking_  now—and don’t you  _dare_  lie—would you have given a single shit about me that day at the store if you hadn’t read my name? If you hadn’t had the faintest of hopes that I was your fucking soul-mate because of my  _goddamn_  name? Would you have cared? Would you have persued me?  _Would_  you?!”

Gavin was stuck silent, whether by thought or fear, Michael couldn’t tell. But in the three beats of breath between them in which Gavin still said nothing, Michael lost the smallest strings of hope he had recklessly clung on to. He backed away from Gavin, defeated.

"Of course you wouldn’t. Get out of my sight, Gavin."

Finally, Gavin found his voice, opening his mouth to protest, but Michael cut him off.

"No," he said, turning away. "I’m done."

He left Gavin in the kitchen, passing by Ray, who was still standing shock-still in the living room. He wore the same look of disappointment that graced Michael’s face, but said nothing, to which Michael was grateful. And it was only when he finally slid the lock shut on his bedroom door, breathing in the silence, did he truly think about what he had just done.

He heard footsteps outside his door, but no one bothered him, and night came upon him slowly, showering him in the same darkness that had engulfed his thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

6:54 PM: Michael, talk to me.  
7:10 PM: Michael, come on.  
7:55 PM: Say something, Michael. Come on.  
9:04 PM: Michael….  
12:21 AM: Michael, please.  
2:04 AM: …

Sleep couldn’t help Gavin that night. No matter how much he would lay in bed, eyes tightly closed, and try, it didn’t work. He could think of no one but Michael and the words that stung through his heart. Of course his motivation was the tattoo and fate and the myth. Of course if he didn’t care about this myth, he probably wouldn’t have given Michael a second glance. But he did. And now it left him with a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He let himself care so much about the stranger he met at the grocery store, and now he felt the after burn of loving and caring for someone so much. Time and time again, he left himself vulnerable to person after person, stranger after stranger, and time and time again he would come to regret it.

He thought Michael was different. He thought maybe, just maybe, this whole fairy tale of fate and magic playing matchmaker was true, and that maybe it actually can work for him and he wouldn’t be like the sad handful who never found their mate, or found them too late.

And so he huddled himself in his bed, his heart ripped from his chest, the metaphorical blood draining out and leaving him lifeless, all hope and excitement torn away so violently with such few words that repeated like a broken record. 

Hopelessly, he clicked the screen of his phone on repeatedly throughout the night, hoping for a message to greet him. But nothing but the passing time would show in every single instance. Miles away, Gavin knew Michael had these messages, and as night turned slowly to day, he figured that he no longer cared.

Gavin existed for a month this way, night after he’d send a few texts, hoping for a response, but as the days grew longer in between the contact, he knew nothing would come back. And so one morning, he rose from bed, the morning light peeking through the dark curtain. He knew he couldn’t just lay around at home all day and feel sorry for himself. He wanted to, of course, but he knew from experience that it didn’t help in any way. He looked to the phone on the nightstand. He didn’t want to spend the day alone, he knew that for sure. He knew Barbara was busy at work today, and he still couldn’t see facing Ray for the foreseeable future, so he scrolled though his list of contacts, most he never bothered to keep up with, only taking their numbers for the sake of being polite as he scrolled, a name stuck out, making him creep back up the list: Meg.

Who was Meg again? he thought to himself. The name rang a huge bell, but he couldn’t put the face to it. He thought for a while, and he knew there was something to this name. A bubbly redhead came to mind as he continued to stare at the name. Bright, funny, admittedly adorable, Gavin felt a slight twinge of guilt that he never followed through with his promise to talk to her. And before he could let himself change his mind, a text quickly left his fingertips:

10:21 AM: Hi, Meg, it’s Gavin. Remember me?”

 

—

 

“I was surprised when I got your text.” she laughed, hugging him, slightly awkward as they met outside the cafe later that day.

“I know, little spontaneous, I’ll admit.” He held the chair back for her as they took their seats inside. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Um, not bad. Busy with work. Yourself?” Gavin smiled, looking at the girl, fidgeting slightly in her seat, eyeing the menu in front of her. 

“Same. Life, work, stuff like that.” 

“Oh, I was wondering.” She chimed, as if a sudden clarity had struck her. “Did you ever find Michael?”

Gavin blinked once. Twice. The name still dealing a sharp blow to his heart. 

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking anyway. I mean if it’s something you don’t wanna talk about and all-” she began to ramble, trying to cover the mistake she thought she made.

“Oh, no, it’s not a bother or anything.” He ran his hand through his hair, blowing it off, trying to convince himself it wasn’t anything. “Um, yeah…yeah, I did. About three months ago.”

“Oh! Well that’s fantastic!” She smiled, not a single sound of disappointment in her voice. Gavin looked away, trying to hide the still bit of pain the thought brought to him. “Gavin, are you okay?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine.” he laughed it off as they placed their orders. They chatted casually over their small lunch, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Meg would ask Gavin about Michael, and he would answer generally, dodging specifics, having Meg grow more suspicious to what the whole story was.

“So what’s up with Michael?” she asked.

Gavin sighed. He didn’t want to talk about him. So he knew the only thing to say.

“It didn’t work out. We tried, but it just never clicked.”

“Aww, I’m so sorry.” She rested her hand on his, offering her support.

“Did you ever find Gavin?” he asked her, turning the attention away from him.

Her shoulders tensed, as well as her hand, a cold chill suddenly running through her body.

“Um…yeah.”

“Oh? And how’d that go?” He asked, wary of her reaction.

“He…he died. He was military. And he was already married. I found his obituary.”

“How’d you know it was him, then?” he pressed, hanging by her word.

“Honestly, I looked him up on Facebook.” she laughed slightly. “I saw the name when I searched for it online, and once I found the obituary, I figured I’d give it a chance and see. And I found a picture…you can see my name across his forearm. Like it wasn’t a big deal or anything. It was…it was stupid.”

She looked down to the floor, to her hands, anywhere but Gavin. 

“Are you…taking it okay?” he asked.

“It’s hard…knowing your soulmate…doesn’t exist, I guess.” she looked up to him, smiling, but weaker, more fragile than before. “But that was about a month ago. And it wasn’t like I ever got to speak to him or anything. Really the only thing tying me to him is his name on my body and my name on his arm.”

“Yeah…not much you can do about that.” he looked at the bared Michael Vincent Jones across his left hand, sighing and reaching into his jacket pocket for his gloves. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

 

—

 

“And so this kid, he’s like 11 or some shit, and he just takes the controller out of this freaking, i don’t know, like 26 year old dude’s hands last week at the store, and he just starts owning everyone in the match and the guy’s just standing there like…” she stood in place, mouth agape, eyes cartoonishly crossing, making Gavin laugh well more than he thought he should. 

“What a knob.” he choked out, realizing they were at Meg’s car. The two stood in place, looking at each other, at the car, and at everything else, the awkward silence flowing between them.

“So..this was fun.” she smiled. “Sorry I got a little depressing there.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I understand completely.” Gavin laughed. The two looked at one another, distance close, and Gavin could feel that familiar tension. She looked away, face flushed, as he thought should I? Do I want to?

Before he could decide, Meg leaned in and kissed him lightly on his lips, just barely even a kiss.

Now Gavin knew. He knew for a fact he wanted to kiss her back, to just say fuck it to Michael and his douchebaggery and just throw caution to the wind and he just-

BZZZZZZ-BZZZZZZZ-BZZZZZZZZ

He felt the vibrating of his phone in his pocket. Meg stood there, laughing slightly as Gavin conflicted on whether to answer the phone or to keep going.

BZZZZZZ-BZZZZZZZ-BZZZZZZZZ

Again it went off, Meg now pulling back.

“You should probably answer that.” she laughed a little more.

“Yeah, I guess.” he smirked, pulling the phone out, heart dropping to his waist as he read the name on the screen. He stepped away from Meg a fair distance, holding his finger to keep her away.

“Michael?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is upon us! On behalf of myself and allonsymckenzie, we'd like to thank everyone for their wonderful love and support through our co-writing adventure together. It means the world to us how well this was received, and we can't thank you enough <3

Michael was pacing the floor of his apartment steadily; his mind was focused, but thoughts were racing through his head so quickly that the world was blurred around the edges, a shaded tint reminiscent of his hazy mistakes. It had been weeks since he’d spoken to Gavin, and while the anger had faded, the confusion had not. The pain had not. He’d seen each of Gavin’s messages, stared at them in the blinding light of his phone, contrast to the darkness in his room, and felt himself unwinding, step by step. His brain read every word in an agonizingly pristine mimic of Gavin’s voice, and he felt his stomach clench and unclench as he realized he  _missed_  Gavin. He missed him so much.

He was sure Gavin would answer the phone, he was sure Gavin would come to see him, and he was sure Gavin would listen. Because, as painful as it was to admit, Gavin had something Michael never could. Hope, acceptance, and… no defenses. He had never been afraid.

The world of Michael’s thoughts crashed to a halt when there was a knock on the door, and Michael paused, relishing in his moment of clarity and praying that Gavin would give him a chance to speak while he could.

Gavin didn’t look mad when he opened the door, but Michael was having a hard time reading expressions lately. There was a soft breeze, disturbing the sleeves of Gavin’s shirt, and Michael swallowed, struck dumb so easily that Gavin had to clear his throat and take the lead.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," Michael breathed, the sound of Gavin’s voice hitting him harder than his mind prepared him for. He stepped back to give Gavin room. "Come in."

Gavin did, surprising Michael by taking a seat on the couch like always had before, closing his eyes like he was steeling himself for another out-lash. The thought sent a pang of regret through Michael’s chest.

"I’m sorry I yelled at you," he said softly, closing the door. "I was just…frustrated. Hurt. I’m sorry though."

He took a seat opposite of Gavin and nervously ran a hand through his hair, waiting for Gavin’s reaction.

"It’s alright," Gavin replied. "I know how you get."

Something caught in Michael’s throat then, the way Gavin stated it so carelessly, so  _offhand_ , like it hadn’t been defining. But he seemed to think nothing of it, while Michael’s shame crashed down on him with every small realization.

"I yelled at her too," Michael blurted out, trying to focus on any subject he could grasp. Gavin looked up, nothing but green eyes and badly hidden curiosity, and Michael’s pulse sped. "Lindsay, the girl. I… told her to go back home and take out the guy that’s always trying to win her over. I kicked her out."

"That’s a bit harsh, even for you," Gavin chastised quietly, and Michael nodded.

"I know. That’s why I went and found her online. I called her."

And here, in this very moment, is where Michael would have given anything to hear Gavin’s thoughts. The way his arm twitched, the way his body went rigid, Michael would have given anything to know what he was thinking. And how he had felt about his conclusion.

"Are you—"

"No," Michael answered instantly, not sure if he knew what Gavin was going to say, or he just wanted to bring the conversation back to his, barely stable ground. "I just… I called her to apologize. I felt like an idiot and a jerk. Luckily she listened. It took me a few weeks, and by that time she, well, she actually did take out some friend that’s always liked her."  
Michael hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully.

"I’ve been thinking about this a lot, which is why I never got back to you. I wanted to really think about it, without seeing you. You… tend to distract me."

Gavin had the decency to try and hide his smile, but let Michael continue.

"Look, Gavin, I didn’t…" he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. He had been so prepared for this, but the way Gavin was looking at him was putting his brain in distress. "I didn’t mean to be with you," he said quietly, "and it scared me. I liked you, really did, and it went against everything I believed in, especially how we met. But now…"

Michael faltered, he was falling apart. What had he planned to say? He knew it backwards and forwards, but Gavin was here now, and Michael’s senses were filled with nothing but the sweet faint smell that had always clung to Gavin’s jackets, saw nothing but green eyes waiting patiently, forgiving, felt nothing but nerves and the undeniable urge to  _feel_.

"You were right, you know," Gavin spoke into the silence, when Michael finally lost his words. "About not even giving you a second glance if I hadn’t read your name. But it’s funny, because I never give anyone a second glance. I try not to get too involved because… I, well to be honest with you, I doubt anyone barely gives me even the  _first_  glance.”

Michael looked up to watch him, green eyes suddenly clouded, but a faint, wistful smile on his lips. There was a beat of silence before Gavin continued.

"But I saw your name and thought, maybe, this means I could have a chance with him. Maybe someone would be just as interested in me, for once. Even if it’s only because of a tattoo." He looked up at Michael and smiled. "Lucky for me I’d get the one bloke that didn’t believe in that, huh?"

Michael let out a breath of laughter, and Gavin moved to sit beside him, a fluid motion that felt neither out of place nor forced. The warmth was immediately, and Michael felt himself melting into it, Gavin’s next words almost lost on him.

"You scared me too, Michael," he spoke softly, "I thought I had lost you, and not as a soul-mate, but as a… well, whatever we were. Friends, even."

After a moment of silence, Michael took Gavin’s hand and turned it around in his, letting his fingers trace over the fine script of his name.

"You know," he said softly, "Maybe I’ve been too hard on these tattoos. Maybe they’re not so much a guide to fate, but rather a…nudge in the right direction. To make sure you meet up with the people you’re supposed to meet up with, people who will guide you to making the right decisions." He paused, letting his fingers intertwine with Gavin’s. "I’d like to think maybe they’re just here to show us what we could have missed. What’s available."

Gavin’s grip tightened on Michael’s hand and he leaned forward to whisper in Michael’s ear. “Well, I’m fairly available, love.”

"Shut the fuck up, Gavin," Michael smiled, warmth radiating from his bones, and turned to meet Gavin for a kiss, sweet and soft. But when Gavin tilted his head, deepening it, Michael pushed back with a new intensity. He moved one hand to the back of Gavin’s neck, tangling his fingers in hair, while he felt Gavin’s arms circle around his back and waist, pressing him closer. Gavin parted his lips as Michael ran a tongue across them, the heat from their bodies becoming a steady incline as they pressed against each other, relishing in the fiction and weight .They moved for a moment, electricity between them as hands gripped and lips slid against each other until Gavin pulled back for air. 

"Just think," he smiled, cheeks flush and slightly out of breath, "We could have been doing this for weeks if you hadn’t been such a pisspot."

Michael rolled his eyes before pushing Gavin down against the couch, crawling on top of him and silencing Gavin with a small bite on his lips, followed by another kiss.

"I promise I can make up for those few weeks if you swear you’ll never ever call me that again."

As he spoke, he ran a hand underneath Gavin’s shirt and hooked his fingers in the hem of his pants. Gavin groaned softly and nodded, letting his eyes flutter closed as Michael popped the button on his pants and met Gavin’s lips for another heated kiss.

The sound of a door shutting however, startled them so badly Michael nearly lost his grip and Gavin clutched onto Michael’s shirt while letting an involuntary curse slip. Ray stood in the doorway, phone in one hand and a bag of food in the other.

"Whoa. Do you think maybe you could move that to the bedroom? I jack off on that couch, it’s seen enough dick to last a lifetime."

"Hey Ray!" Michael said cheerfully, making no move to get off of Gavin.

Ray ignored him and bent down a bit, trying to meet Gavin’s eyes. “Afternoon, Gav, good to see you back.”

"Thanks, thanks Ray," Gavin squeaked back, his cheeks red. Michael finally sat up to give Gavin some room, but kept his fingers on the hem of Gavin’s pants, running his hand teasingly across the bulge he found there. Gavin gave a slight, involuntary buck before glaring at Michael, who only smiled.

"Now, before I let you get down to your dirty business," Ray interrupted, eyes fixated on his phone, "I have some news to share. Michael, remember that girl who was kicking my ass online the other day?"

"Yeah?" Michael nodded, his interest piqued.

"Well, I found out a bit more about her. She lives about two hours north of here, likes cartoons and draft beer, and…" he paused, holding out his phone for Michael to take. "Her name is Erica Ramirez."

"No fucking way, Ray…" Michael took the phone, a picture of a young, brown haired woman smiling back at him through a piercing on her lip. One thing stood out to him though, a faint writing curving gently across her collarbone, the distinct letters "…arveaz Jr" clearly visible across her skin.

"Ray," Michael grinned, having no other words. Ray immediately snatched the phone back, staring at the picture with a sweet smile before turning back to Michael.

"I spoke to her earlier, and she said she’s free tonight for a movie or something, if I’m willing to drive up there. I know you’re not a fan of all this stuff, Michael, but if you guys want to come, I’d—"

"Tell you what, Ray," Michael interrupted, running a hand teasingly across the skin above Gavin’s pants while Gavin tried fruitless not to react. "Give us about an hour, and we’ll be more than happy to go meet her."

"Thanks, Michael," Ray grinned, and a brief moment of understanding passed between them, a change in attitude and a change of reality, before it passed and Ray retreated to his room, reminding them cheerfully to use protection.

"I thought you didn’t believe in soul-mates and tattoos," Gavin smiled, pulling himself off the couch and letting Michael led him to his room.

"I don’t," Michael responded lightly, shutting the door behind them and wasting no time in removing Gavin’s shirt as he pressed him forcibly against the wall. "But they haven’t steered me wrong so far."

He met Gavin’s lips in another kiss, more passionate than before, and pressed their hips together. A fire was burning through him, fueled by the taste of Gavin against him and the long, sought after comfort and feeling of being in control of his own life. The comfort of knowing he had  _made_  this decision, and, as Gavin’s hands fisted the back of Michael’s shirt to arch against him, realizing he didn’t regret any of it. 

Gavin let out a soft moan as Michael moved his lips to Gavin’s neck, biting softly. “Fuck, I think I love you, Michael, you know that?”

Michael only smiled against Gavin’s skin, reaching down to undo the rest of Gavin’s pants, “You will in a minute, baby, I promise.”


End file.
